


So Long

by theprydonian_archivist



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Episode: s03e11 Utopia, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-03
Updated: 2008-03-03
Packaged: 2018-07-15 00:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7198718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprydonian_archivist/pseuds/theprydonian_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The past returns to haunt them, as their future beckons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Long

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Prydonian](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Prydonian). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [The Prydonian collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/theprydonian/profile).

It had been so long… since his last conscious thought. He remembered how his machinations had finally been his undoing, and capture had been inevitable. He had seen the inside of many a cell, and had escaped each time. But this was different. His own mind was shut out, cut off from his physical body. But its mental strength had not been diminished. It had only been a matter of time, waiting for the pieces to slot into place, until mind and body could be rejoined. And time, as a concept, meant nothing to him.

So long… and the process of age had changed him, his once black hair having turned grey, his beard long since gone. It had only been in recent years that the voices had come to plague him. But the half-heard whispers had meant nothing. Until a scientist had come calling — that was when the voices became more insistent, nagging at the back of his mind.

So long... since he had last felt young. Previous incarnations had seen an older visage, more stylish in appearance. But this was much better. He felt vibrant, alive. He touched his bare chin, and shrugged. An old Earth saying popped into his head — clothes maketh the man. He had to concede the point, but only to himself. A matter to be redressed, certainly.

So long… since their last meeting. Memories of previous confrontations still echoed within him. And it was this chance encounter which had, in effect, freed him from his prison after all this time. The irony was not lost on him — that his nemesis had been the one to give him back his life. So it had seemed only right to appropriate his TARDIS as some form of thanks.

So long… since his hands had last touched the console of a TARDIS. The interior was different, but not unfamiliar. The controls responded grudgingly at first, as though recognising the intruder, but that provided no problems to him.

And now, they stood once more, facing each other across a busy London street. He thought he’d seen the last of him, but the Doctor was his intellectual equal — almost. So he shouldn’t have been surprised to see him there. If anything, it was to be expected.

The Master smiled, offering a slight nod of recognition.

The Doctor returned the gesture, and remembered.

It had been so long… since the call that had brought him back home. Another trial — not his own, but that of someone who had once been his friend. As the verdict was issued, and the sentence carried out, their eyes met, just once. But there was no sign of redemption, no plea for mercy. The Doctor had expected no less.

So long… since that fateful day. The day when a life had been replaced by another. The Doctor had only recently submitted himself to the same process in order to shelter from The Family. And that had only been a temporary measure. But for the crimes in his name, the decree for the Master’s sentence was absolute, with no release from this particular prison.

So long… since the Time War. When his own life had changed beyond all recognition. For the first time in his life he had been truly alone. No one had survived, and even the Master’s imprisonment was like a death sentence hanging over him. The Doctor had pleaded on his behalf, asking for some form of latitude. But the High Council would not be swayed. And now they, and the rest of Gallifrey, were gone.

So long… since the battle lines had last been drawn between them. They had been friends once — a friendship so deep that even after all this time a grudging admiration still existed between them. Like a bond that could never be broken. And as they silently faced each other, with the hustle and bustle of London life passing by unnoticed, it was as though the cosmic balance had at last been reset.

And they both understood. Despite their many battles, it would always be this way.

For so long…


End file.
